


Milk--No, Starlight, I Promise

by remi_wolf



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archive Jon, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly comfort though, Panic Attacks, Psychological Trauma, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), he's trying though!, lonely martin, post-159, pre-160, woefully unromantic Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22306285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remi_wolf/pseuds/remi_wolf
Summary: A few days after the Lonely experience in the Panopticon, Martin wakes up one night to find himself with a shock-white head of hair. He doesn't take this well, but luckily Jon is able to help him work through it. Together, they're far better than they are alone, even if Jon is horribly unromantic and has no idea how to properly compliment a person.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 7
Kudos: 214
Collections: Beguilements and Distractions





	Milk--No, Starlight, I Promise

**Author's Note:**

> In a brief twitter conversation with @awfulteeth, we were on the topic of if Martin would to get white hair after his experience in the Lonely (you can pry that headcanon from my cold, dead hands). I mentioned that Jon would try to make him feel better about how his hair isn't the color of the Lonely's fog, and compare it instead to starlight. However! I came to the realization less than an hour later that there would be no way in hell that Jon would be that smooth at all, and he'd compare it to something far more stupid, since he's trying to help get Martin out of his panic attack, and if there is one thing Jon can't do, it's think under pressure. So, in an attempt to fix the awful idea that Jon would compare Martin's hair to starlight, I figured I'd write this up instead.  
> No edits, no betas, we die like men.

It started with a whimper, and then a bang. 

Jon ignored the first one turning over. He didn’t know what it was, and he certainly wasn’t going to try and Know what it was, either. What he wanted to do was curl over and pull Martin close against his body again. However, when his arm draped across the bed to cuddle longer with Martin, he didn’t feel him at all. That was...well, it was concerning, is what it was, and he sat up, grasping around the table before finally finding his glasses and looking around the room. Martin couldn’t have gotten far. Jon always woke up when he left the bed, and the door was open as well, so it wasn’t as though Martin had somehow slipped into the Lonely on him. 

There was the sound of a ragged breath from the bathroom, and Jon looked up as he heard it before walking over, carefully picking his way over clothes that hadn’t been picked up yet and finally through the half-open door to see the amber stripe of light painting the floor to accompany the sounds of someone beginning to hyperventilate and sob, seemingly at the same time. Jon carefully continued walking, finally opening the door to the bathroom to see Martin shivering and curled up on the floor, practically shoving himself into the tight space between the toilet and the bathtub. 

“Martin? Are you alright?”

Jon carefully took a few steps towards him before dropping to his knees, carefully reaching out towards him before stopping. Where there had been a head full of bouncy, russet curls, Martin’s head was instead adorned with stark-white hair, contrasting sharply with the dark skin that seemed almost ashen with Martin’s panic as he tried to blend in with the stained tiles behind him. 

“Martin, can you hear me?” Jon asked, keeping his voice low, and carefully making sure that he wasn’t Compelling Martin either. When Martin didn’t seem to respond, Jon carefully reached out, brushing his fingertips against Martin’s ankle, just below where his calf was sticking out of the blue fleece, almost as though his finger was about to get nibbled on by a bright orange dinosaur. 

“You can see me?”

Jon sighed as Martin finally spoke, even though Martin was still trembling and his face was buried against his knees. His voice sounded almost as empty as it was on that Lonely beach those few days ago, and Jon carefully stifled the panic at the idea that the Lonely was still somehow following them here, trying to steal Martin out from under him. That wouldn't do, and so Jon carefully pulled Martin’s leg towards him, trying to pull Martin close. Contact would hopefully help to warm him up, and the motion was awkward enough that it had Jon huffing with annoyance throughout.

At least Martin was huffing a laugh by the end of it, even if it didn’t sound like his usual laugh, just exhausted and barely more than an exhale of breath. It certainly didn’t sound like a happy laugh, but at least it required some sort of emotion, Jon supposed. Martin’s voice had the concerning lack of shape that he remembered from the bout in the Lonely, but at least that laugh required something. After enough tugging and pulling, Martin eventually curled up against Jon, his nose cold as it pressed against the scars on his throat, but Jon wasn’t about to mention that at all. 

“You can see me though, right?” 

Jon sighed before nodding slightly, carefully thinking over what he could tell Martin that would get him to believe that he could still see him normally, without any other influence from the Eye. “Yes. I can. You’re still as soft and cuddly as ever, and you smell like my soap, and I would kiss you, but I think we both have morning breath right now.” He listed off the various sensations, trying to remember all of the sensations, but at least that seemed to help Martin settle a little bit better. Martin half-laughed, looking  up at Jon, bone-white curls falling into his face.

“I guess you aren’t the only one who looks old now,” Martin said, and Jon couldn’t help but smile at that ridiculous notion, shrugging slightly. Even with white hair, Martin couldn't possibly look old, what with his wide-open eyes and face unmarred by pockmarks and scars from the attacks on the Archive and in various investigations.

“I suppose so. Give me a few years, and I’m sure I’ll end up matching you. Or maybe a few months, at this point,” Jon said, sighing softly, looking up at the ceiling and nearly missing the gasp from Martin beside him. 

“You can’t get old! I won’t allow it.”

Jon laughed softly, relieved now that Martin sounded properly shocked at something that he said. He looked over at Martin and the way his eyes were wide, even if the corners were crinkled with a smile, and Jon sighed softly before leaning close to him, foreheads pressed together. 

“I have to get old sometime, Martin. Besides, it’ll be nice to match you,” Jon murmured softly before pressing a light kiss to the corner of his lips before leaning back, letting himself look over Martin’s changed appearance, with the way his eyelashes framed his black-brown eyes. “You...I think you look very nice like this.”

Martin blinked, expression seemingly stunned for a moment before he grinned and poked Jon in the ribs. Jon couldn’t help the slight wince as Martin naturally found the slim gap and poked deeper into his side than was probably healthy, but hopefully Martin hadn’t realized that yet. “Yeah? You think I look nice, even with hair that looks like the Lonely fog? How nice would you think I look?” Martin asked, voice full of beautiful teasing as a more healthy pallor started returning to his cheeks.

Jon rolled his eyes before shrugging, looking at Martin before glancing away. Words were never his strong suit, and Martin was the poet, not him. He could barely even organize a statement together with the Eye, let alone compliments on his own. “I don’t know. You just...look nice. Your hair looks a bit like milk, I suppose?”

There was a beat of a moment as Jon’s words hung in the air before Martin broke down laughing, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as he wiped them away.

“Milk?”

“I, well, you know! It’s all white and, and...” 

“But really? _Milk_?”

Jon sputtered, pulling away from Martin, shrugging and pulling his bony knees against his chest. “Well, fine. What would you rather me say, it’s like starlight? That’s just...well, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Are you serious? That’s one of the most romantic comparisons you could make!”

Jon could feel his face heat as he curled closer into himself, shrugging even despite the way his body felt tight with the embarrassment of Martin laughing at him and so clearly not appreciating any of this. “I just...your hair doesn’t glow, or glitter, so it’s clearly not like starlight. I like it, though. It looks nice and it feels like home.”

Jon kept his eyes turned from Martin, stiffening as he felt Martin’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close and onto Martin’s lap. He still refused to look at Martin, even when it meant that he had to awkwardly look up at the ceiling to try and ignore both Martin and the embarrassing warmth on his face. 

“You promise you like it?”

Jon finally sighed as he looked at Martin before pressing a quick kiss against his cheek, tangling a hand into his hair, finally nodding. “I promise I like it. Starlight, if that makes you feel better.”

“No, I think I like the original comparison. It’s exactly what I should have expected from you. Surprisingly honest, and something no one else would ever say,” Martin murmured, smiling as he leaned his head against Jon’s hand.

Jon sighed, a small smile on his lips as well before he moved, getting onto his knees. “Now, I think it’s time for sleep. It’s too early for you to be making more fun of me, and this way we can wake up and have awful morning kisses when it’s a proper time.”

Martin sighed, though he was already pulling himself to his feet, adjusting his pajamas before helping Jon to his feet as well. “Thank you, Jon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jon sighed, leaning close to him before pressing a kiss to his bone-white hair. “I’m sure you’d be far better off than I would be. But come on. Bedtime since we’re leaving again tomorrow.”

Martin nodded, smiling faintly and leading Jon out of the bathroom. “Bedtime it is.”


End file.
